It’s not that I don’t cry because I’m (consciously) prideful; my defense mechanism(s) is/are just so spot on

that they so often inhibit the form of release we know as crying. Whether or not it’s just in my nature to rationalize, whether it be a psychosomatic response—the variables differ, though function as a whole. My knowing of this situation is all that matters.

To step into the future as whole, the gift of awareness is necessary, but to think is a choice. To see a ball, a stuffed animal and to be able to choose to see that these things before you are simply toys—is a choice. A choice to be aware of what you want to play with in this world that is blanketed by bullshit will be the deciding factor on whether or not you make in tomorrow’s world.

But making it to the next day is one thing; waking up knowing yourself is another. Do you play with fire, or does the fire play with you? Do you buy your designer clothes, or has a company purchased your way of viewing a more grandious way of living in this world?

I made my choice.

It’s not you.

I’ll see you tomorrow, but without you in it.